Do you write? Are you ambushed by your characters' sometimes unsettling ventriloquism? It's fucked up, isn't it?
I purchased Spanish Bluebells for the garden. They're supposed to be invasive but I've always enjoyed impressive volunteers.
Amid all this effusion I was reading something somewhere about the slow demise of online comments and as you might know that's been my policy virtually from day one on TBO. Which is something I've regretted, on and off, since I'd really like to A- know what all the other freaks are thinking and B- well, interact upon occasion like a fucking normal person. The big-eyed, pudgy-deerpark-doe-like part of me would certainly like to lick your hands. I get more visits now than I ever, ever expected despite my retarded, perverted refusal to self-promote or social-mediate. Our estrangement is a matter of great regret to me and I press my tits against the screen more often that you know/your educated guess is fairly accurate.
But then the other bit of my brain smacks the troll food out of my hand and reminds me of the pointless shitstorms of utter grossness on the few sites I enjoy that still allow comments. It goes on to remind me about all the things I go without so I don't have to give too many fucks about externals i.e. money, free shit, invitations to places with free shit, slutty randoms- the list goes on, and I really don't lose sleep over depriving fuckwad shut-ins of their only chance to be noticed at everyone else's expense.
It's hard enough out there for a weirdo. Moderation is an option but we all know you can't unsee some shit. Or roll back the emotional impact of abuse, or even just the smelly juggernaut of popular opinion once it's hit you in the face. Far larger sites than this one are tiring of devoting precious resources to fending off anonymous twats and that supports my initial, instinctive position. If you enjoy my shit there's a good chance you already have a fair amount of unblushing iron in your soul, but the thought of someone finding themselves the target of abuse here really bites my fucking nuts.
Elsewhere in depraved old person news, Slash and Axl are BFFs again. Totally would've them both way back when (i.e. not now) because generous with my favours and the future has always been just a mute and pinkish blur to me. And now I'm going to stop procrastinating and read The Dirt even though I always fucking hated Motley Crue (deliberately witholds retarded umlauts).